In Her Words: A Graduate’s Powerful Testimony at Epiphany Royale
At our 29th Annual Benefit Party & Show — Epiphany Royale — one of the most powerful moments of the evening wasn’t found at the casino tables or on the stage, but at the podium.
Each year, an Epiphany graduate bravely shares her journey of addiction, recovery, and renewal. This tradition is more than a program highlight — it is a testament to resilience and a reminder of why our community gathers. By speaking her truth, she strengthens her own recovery while offering guests a deeply personal understanding of how their generosity transforms lives.
This year, Tasha, a graduate of Epiphany’s programs and current employee of Epiphany step-down and the residential treatment center, courageously shared her story. We are honored to share her full remarks below.
“My parents were young when they got married , and despite their struggles, they did the best they could with what they had. I have an older brother, a younger brother and younger sister. So, there were four of us all very close in age. We never went without food, always had a roof over our heads, and clothes on our backs. My parents provided for us physically, but emotionally and mentally that was never a thing.
We didn’t communicate when anything happened, we just swept it under the rug so to speak and moved past it, no communication, no discussion, just yelling and moving on.
Inside the home, alcohol, drugs, and violence were always present. The violence was never directed toward us kids, only a lot of yelling and empty threats. I grew up watching my dad constantly fighting with others and everyone around seemed to be short tempered and angry. Chaos was normal. Substance use was normal. Alcohol was normal. I didn’t grow up learning how to cope with emotions or communicate in healthy ways—I grew up learning how to survive.
“Chaos was normal. Substance use was normal. Alcohol was normal. I didn’t grow up learning how to cope with emotions or communicate in healthy ways—I grew up learning how to survive.”
The first time I stole anything, I was three years old. I took a pack of Rolos from the store after my mom told me no. When she saw me in the back seat eating the candy she was so mad, she took me back to the store and I had to tell them what I had done. She was telling me that I would be in serious trouble when my dad got home. When he did, he sat me on his lap and just told me not to do it again. That was it. In that moment, I learned that consequences were nonexistent, and I began testing boundaries at a very young age.
I smoked a cigarette for the first time at five years old, and that, I got in trouble for. When I was twelve, I got blacked-out drunk for the first time and destroyed my mom’s boss’s house while drinking with her granddaughter.
I did whatever I wanted and constantly fought with my mom when she tried to discipline me. I didn’t listen. Authority meant very little to me.
By high school, I was drinking almost every day. I used meth for the first time at fifteen. I barely graduated from high school and only did so through continuation school. Shortly before graduation, I came home one night to find my mom had packed her things and left. We didn’t speak for almost two years. She just disappeared.
“ Shortly before graduation, I came home one night to find my mom had packed her things and left. ”
I became responsible for making sure the household responsibilities were taken care of, getting my younger brother and sister to school. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, and making sure my dad was up and ready for work the next day. The house fell completely out of control. To cope, I was using and drinking every day. My house became a party house with no structure, no supervision, and no safety.
Then, amongst all this chaos, I realized I was pregnant. In my head, if I didn’t think about it,it wasn’t real, I was scared and didn’t want to acknowledge what was really going on.
I had no prenatal care—no doctors, no hospital visits, and no acknowledgment that I was even pregnant. I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t know how, everything was so out of control in my life and I felt so alone. I gave birth to my daughter in 2001, a year after graduating high school.
At that time, I was using meth every single day. By the grace of GOD my daughter was born healthy. I remember walking out of the hospital leaving her there… It felt so surreal, like it wasn’t real. I went home, slept and didn’t look back, just picking up right where I left off and back to everyday life, as if nothing had happened.
A week later I was contacted by the adoption agency and agreed to place my daughter up for adoption. She was adopted by a loving couple who had waited to have children until they felt everything in their lives was stable—a home, financial security, and a solid foundation. By that time, they were told they could no longer have children. They shared with me that my daughter filled a place in their lives they believed would never be filled. Knowing this has brought me some peace over the years.
“A week later I was contacted by the adoption agency and agreed to place my daughter up for adoption. ”
My life experiences— especially the secret of my daughter and her adoption, combined with all the guilt and shame I carried, became fuel for my addiction for the next eighteen years. Instead of facing those emotions, I buried them with more drugs, alcohol, guilt and shame.
The next eighteen years were consumed by meth, pills, alcohol, and chaos. I was in and out of jail, constantly running from myself and trying to numb everything I had lived through and everything I refused to face.
By the time I was thirty-five, I was arrested for the last time. I was facing serious charges of 13 felonies involving drug sales and violence and was looking at a possible fifteen-year prison sentence. I was sentenced to five years in prison and served one year, got out with four years over my head. This wasn’t fun and games anymore. I knew I needed a change.
When I was released in 2018, I chose treatment.
I arrived at Epiphany Center with everything I owned in two black garbage bags. I was broken, lost, and completely confused. I didn’t trust myself, other people, or the process. Structure felt foreign to me. I had spent my entire life living in chaos—doing whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, answering to no one. At Epiphany, that way of living was no longer an option.
From the beginning, there was structure and routine. I was expected to wake up on time, make my bed, clean my room, attend groups, participate, follow rules, and be accountable for my behavior. At first, this felt uncomfortable, overwhelming, I didn’t know how to communicate, express, or even identify how I was feeling. I wasn’t used to being told “no” or having expectations placed on me consistently. In the past, I avoided responsibility and accountability and always reacted with anger and violence. At Epiphany, I had to stay present and face it, I couldn’t run anymore.
The groups were challenging but transformative. Sitting in a room with other women, listening to their stories, and sharing my own forced me to be honest and vulnerable in ways I had never been before. I could no longer hide behind substances, excuses, or blame. Group therapy helped me recognize patterns in my thinking, my behaviors, and my relationships. I began to understand how trauma, addiction, and survival had shaped my choices, and for the first time, I was encouraged to take responsibility without being shamed.
“I arrived at Epiphany Center with everything I owned in two black garbage bags.”
Accountability became a major part of my healing. When I made mistakes, they were addressed directly—not with punishment, but with honesty and consistency. I was held responsible for my actions, my participation, and my recovery. That kind of accountability was new to me. Instead of running or giving up, I learned how to reflect, accept feedback, and make changes.
Epiphany was also the first place where I experienced emotional safety. The structure, boundaries, and support created an environment where I could finally slow down. I learned how to sit with uncomfortable emotions instead of numbing them. I learned how to ask for help, how to communicate, and how to begin rebuilding trust—with myself and with others.
Through counseling, groups, and daily structure, I began to rebuild my identity. I was no longer defined solely by my addiction, my past, or my mistakes. I didn’t have all the answers, but I stayed long enough for real change to take root. I didn’t know there was another way to live, Epiphany showed me there was, they gave me a foundation to rely on, the support to grow and the platform to learn from my mistakes and become a better person.
“...for the first time in my life, I have peace in my chest. I have God in my heart, stability in my life, and clarity in my mind. ”
I would like to acknowledge and thank Epiphany Center for providing a safe, structured environment where meaningful change was possible. The consistency, boundaries, and accountability offered by staff were critical to my recovery. One staff member in particular, Lisa, played a significant role in my experience at Epiphany. Initially, she was someone who enforced rules and maintained structure, which challenged me. Over time, that consistency became something I respected and valued. Through her role as a counselor and supervisor, she became a mentor whose example demonstrated stability, integrity, and long-term recovery. That professional relationship contributed significantly to my growth, accountability, and decision to pursue a career in the substance use disorder counseling field.
Today, I have a solid foundation, with Epiphany Center at its core working full-time at Epiphany step-down and the residential treatment center. I am eight years sober. I am two weeks away from completing school to become a certified substance use disorder counselor, turning my lived experience into purpose and service. I have worked hard for the life I have today. I live in a beautiful apartment with my animals, and for the first time in my life, I have peace in my chest. I have God in my heart, stability in my life, and clarity in my mind. My life today is beautiful and I am incredibly blessed —and it all started the day I walked through the doors of Epiphany Center with two black garbage bags and nothing left to lose.
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